by Jay Allan
Not only had he been attempting a journey vastly beyond the normal capabilities of his fighter, but the space he’d had to traverse was no longer friendly. Winters’s fleet had pulled back from Dannith, and abandoned a number of other systems, and Stockton was behind enemy lines in every sense of that phrase’s meaning. Even where the Hegemony forces had not yet landed on a system’s inhabited worlds, they had blockaded almost every planet and outpost.
The word ‘almost’ in that assessment had saved his life. The Hegemony had been systematic and relentless, but they simply hadn’t had the time to deploy forces to every old mining operation or refueling station in the depths of each system. Stockton’s database had details on all of it, of course, every floating rustbucket orbiting some half-forgotten outer system gas giant…anything that might hold enough fuel to get him farther on his journey.
In the end, he’d found one that was still operational, its crew at their stations, nervously waiting to see what future—if any—awaited them when the enemy finally got around to sending a force their way. Stockton had been sorry his fighter didn’t have room for any passengers, and space to take on the dozen crewmembers of the tiny station. They had been patriotic enough to give him the fuel he needed, but even as he watched them top off his tanks, he was aware he would be leaving them behind, to whatever fate the enemy had in store for them. There were hundreds of millions of people on the system’s inhabited worlds, and they’d all been left behind as well, but it was different with these men and women. He’d spoked to them one on one, they’d helped him get his ship ready to press on, even managed to assist him with repairs…made it possible for him to escape from the system, where they were trapped, facing an unknown future.
He could still see their faces, remember the sounds of their voices, and he wondered as he stood in Repulse’s bay, if they were alive or dead. The Hegemony didn’t appear to be genocidal, which was a relief on its own…but, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t resort to ruthless tactical expediency with virtually irrelevant targets like a small refueling station. It would be much simpler to blast that kind of target to atoms than to divert landing forces to board and take control.
“Jake!”
Stockton spun around. He recognized the voice instantly, and even as he did, the grim thoughts of the journey, of those left behind, slipped away, and he felt a moment of unrestrained joy.
“Stara…” He took a few steps forward, still wobbly, unsteady on his feet. She closed the rest of the distance, almost at a dead run, and she threw herself into his arms. It was a decidedly unmilitary display, if one the officers and spacers on the flight deck were more than happy to pretend not to see. It was also an impact Stockton’s weakened legs couldn’t endure, and he dropped to the deck, Stara following and landing on top of him.
“Jake, are you…”
“I’m fine,” he managed to say, despite the wind being thoroughly knocked out of him. “It’s nice to be missed…” It was the extent of the humor he was able to muster, and the dark reality of the news he’d brought quickly forced its way back to center stage. “My message. Stara, did you…”
“We got it, Jake.” Stara’s tone followed his in became grimmer, more serious. “We were finally able to pull it through the jamming.” A pause. “Admiral Winters knows. He has the whole message.” She pulled herself back up to a prone pose, and reached out to help Stockton. Then she stood up, and pulled the pilot with her. He stood there, looking no surer on his feet than he had before, but remaining upright nevertheless.
“He’ll want all the details I can give him…as quickly as possible.” Stockton craved rest above almost anything, and what strength he still had, he’d have chosen to spend with Stara. But, they both had duty, and that came first…and his wouldn’t wait.
“Let’s get you into flight control, Jake. We can get a comm line to the admiral…and someplace for you to sit.”
He nodded. “Good. Let’s go.” He had to get to the admiral, make sure Winters understood just what he had seen in Dannith’s system, and the implications it held for enemy supply and logistics.
A direct line to the admiral was almost at the top of his list.
Just below someplace to sit.
* * *
The light hurt her eyes, and she turned her head, trying to shield herself from the intense glare. There was pain, soreness, even as she moved her neck, sharp, shooting sensations down her back. She wasn’t sure where she was, even who she was, at least for a moment.
Anya Fritz…that is my name.
She’d been lost, floating.
Where am I?
She was in a room, no it was smaller than a room. There was something right above her face, clear…the light coming through from outside. She was confused. Then suddenly, she remembered.
The reactor…the engines!
Panic filled her mind. Repulse was dead in space…she had to get the power flowing again. She was running out of time.
She tried to get up…but her body barely responded. She lurched up slightly, and banged into the clear barrier above her. She was in some kind of restricted space. Her impulse was to throw herself against it, but now she realized how weak she was.
There were IV lines attached to her arm as well. She almost tried to move her arm, to pull out the tubes, but then clarity returned slowly, and she began to realize she was in sickbay.
Her thoughts went back…yes, we got the reactor back online. The memory was fuzzy, but there was nothing after.
The radiation.
She was trying to recall her last memories in the reactor room…and then the canopy above her suddenly slid open. She could feel the air from outside, a bit cooler than it had been in the capsule. Refreshing…in a way, at least.
“Captain Fritz…can you hear me?”
She could hear the words, but she wasn’t sure where they were coming from. Her vision past perhaps twenty centimeters was a complete blur.
She could sense hands moving over her, adjusting the equipment that lay all around her body.
“Captain Fritz…can you speak?”
“Yes…” She’d been surer of the answer when she’d first willed words from her mouth, but the scratchy rasp that came out told he she was barely able to speak.
“That’s okay, Captain…it’s normal. Just relax. This is Dr. Merrick. I can’t tell you how happy we are to see you awake.”
“How…long?” Fritz was still disoriented, but she’d managed to start to put things together. She’d been in a coma. The radiation. She remembered now. She hadn’t expected to survive, even as she’d worked in the reactor room. She’d been sure she was dead…she was struggling to get the reactor back online, to save Repulse. So the crew would be able to escape. So she didn’t die for nothing.
“You have been in a coma for three weeks now, Captain. We thought we were going to lose you…but you’re through the worst of it now.”
She felt lousy, not at all like she was ‘through the worst of it,’ but she decided to take the doctor’s word. There was something else in her mind, hazy, distant. A worry. The reactor? No, that was obviously back online. Walt…
Walt Billings had been with her, working on the reactor. They’d worked side by side. She’d never have gotten the thing back online without him.
“Walt?”
“I think you should rest now, Captain. The cellular repair procedures seem to have worked, but you will be exhausted for quite some time. We can’t have you over-exert…”
“Where…is…he?” She moved her head, as much as she could, turning toward the doctor. He was still a blurry shape above her, though her vision was improving slowly. “How…is…Walt?”
The doctor hesitated, not responding for a few seconds. Then he said softly, the pain in his voice clear, “I’m sorry, Captain. Commander Billings didn’t make it. We lost him two days ago.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Senate Hall
Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III
Year
317 AC
“We cannot give in to Admiral Barron’s demands…even if there is some cause for his discontent. This body is the ultimate authority in the Confederation, and the day we allow the military to dictate to us is the day liberty is lost.” Tolbert Ferrell stood on the podium, addressing a Senate that was in utter disarray, if not outright panic. His carefully assembled coalition had fallen apart almost completely, and his speech was as much an effort to cling to the power he could feel slipping through his fingers as it was a defense of Senate integrity.
He’d been shaken when he heard of Desiree Marieles’ murder, along with those of a number of her associates. He’d been surprised on one level, though, perhaps, less on another. He’d come to the conclusion that the lobbyist had dealings with some unsavory sorts, and he cursed himself for naivety in not questioning how she had attained the information he’d used to bring down Gary Holsten, and later so many others. Information that now appeared to be largely fabricated. Still, the truth was almost impossible for him to completely believe.
A Sector Nine agent?
He’d already distanced himself from her before her death, cut the dealings between the two of them, but he couldn’t erase the fact that she’d played a major role in his rise to prominence.
That he’d helped her implement her plan to destabilize the Confederation. That part of the whole sorry episode hadn’t come out yet, but he couldn’t imagine it would be much longer before it did.
He’d been a fool, an unwitting one perhaps, but a fool nevertheless, and the damage had been done. He couldn’t imagine Tyler Barron or any of the wrongfully accused officers accepting his explanation, and there was no doubt, none at all, that his political rivals would use it to tear him to shreds.
He had to hang on, pin his hopes on a defense of the Senate and its authority. Otherwise, he was finished.
“Your impassioned speech is impressive, no doubt, Senator Ferrell…and yet you mention nothing of the Marine forces deployed just outside this Senate Complex, nor the indisputably powerful fleet under Admiral Barron’s command, situated just out of range of Megara’s defensive array. Even those defenses, though under Senatorial control at least at this moment, are inadequate to repel Barron’s fleet…and it is far from certain the officers and spacer there will remain under our control if it comes to imminent hostilities with the fleet.” Claudius Gerald stood up, staring across the hall toward Ferrell, speaking with urgency, even outrage. Gerald had been one of those who’d remained mostly silent during Ferrell’s rise, throughout the entire Sector Nine plot, but now he spoke, and as he did, several dozen others rose to their feet in support.
“My esteemed Senator Gerald, you are a wise legislator and a man I am pleased to call my colleague. Yet, surely you are not suggesting that this body can abrogate its authority and yield to a military coup. If we do so, we shall fall into the utter contempt of those who elected us, and we shall shame these halls, to the disgrace of those esteemed legislators who preceded us.”
“Flowery language for certain, Senator Ferrell, and quite stirring…if also phony.” Claudius was undeterred, and the growing faction that was rising, and moving to stand behind him, began to unnerve Ferrell, even as he watched the Ulion Senator continue. “Your journey from non-entity from a backwater planet to a worldly manifestation of corruption and all that is rotten about politics is complete. You and your allies have brought disgrace upon this great house, and, in doing so, you have endangered the Confederation itself. You have allowed yourselves to be manipulated by foreign agents, no less…and played a lead role in seeing false and libelous charges brought against many of the Confederation’s greatest heroes.” Claudius stepped forward, moving toward the podium, the throng of Senators behind him looking more and more like a mob. Ferrell could feel the fear, not so much that the other Senators might assault him physically, but that he was losing control. He bristled at the accusations leveled by Claudius…and yet Desiree Marieles’s body had been found, along with those of her associates, and all had been tied to superbly constructed alias’s.
Marieles had been Sector Nine…he knew it now. And, soon everyone would know. He stood on the podium, near panic, trying to decide what to do, to find a way out.
But there was nothing. Only the tightening noose of Senators gathering around him, as his support dwindled, and his allies ran for cover.
* * *
“I am very relieved to hear from you, Admiral. I’m afraid I had begun to fear the worst.” Barron sat in his office, alone, on the comm with Van Striker and Gary Holsten. He waited for a few seconds, as the signal traveled to Megara and then back again with the response.
“I’m relieved myself, Tyler. Not to seem melodramatic, but I think Gary and Jon Peterson’s Marines got there just in time. I’m still not sure why Ricard kept me alive for so long, but I think my luck was about to run out.”
“I’m deeply happy and relieved that it worked out, sir.” A pause. “Any sign of Lille?”
A few more seconds, then, “No…none. It’s as though he vanished. I’m guessing he managed to get off-planet when the whole Sector Nine plan began to fall apart.”
Barron hesitated. Then he asked the question that had been eating away at his insides. “Andi…any word on her?”
There was silence on the line, for longer than the distance delay. Finally, Gary Holsten answered. “No, Tyler. Nothing.” Another stretch of silent seconds. “I’m afraid I missed her real reason for coming to Megara. She tried to kill Ricard Lille, just before we rescued Van. She came damned close to succeeding, too.”
Barron heard the words, and his insides twisted. He’d known Lille had held Andi captive on Dannith, but he’d listened to her assurances that her captivity had been uneventful, that she hadn’t been treated that badly. Now, he felt like an idiot. You believed what you wanted to believe…you’re a damned fool. And, you let her go back…on some suicidal vendetta.
“She is…” He couldn’t say it, and he left the two words hanging in the air around him.
“No, Tyler…don’t assume that. She is very capable, more so than we sometimes realize. My feeling is, she is out there, looking for Lille.”
“But, if he left Megara…” A pause. “Pegasus…did she…”
“No, Tyler. Andi’s ship is still in the station dock.”
Tyler heard the words like an iron fist to his gut. If Andi had pursued Lille off-planet, she’d have taken her ship…or at least tried to. She can’t be… He couldn’t even finish the thought.
“We’re looking for her, Tyler…everywhere. We’ll find her.” Holsten was trying to reassure him, that was obvious, but Barron’s mind had latched on to the worst conclusion. You let her go. You were so focused on the Hegemony, on dealing with the situation on Megara. You just let her go.
He hated himself, and he struggled to hold back the pain, the despair over Andi’s death, which he now took as a virtual fact. He’d failed her, let her down…as she had never done to him. He might not be able to help her anymore, but his grief demanded action. He would make sure all those responsible had paid…if he had to bombard Troyus City from orbit to do it.
“It’s time to end this. Now.” His voice was cold, and hard as steel. “Enough damage has been done. Enough good people have been lost.”
“Tyler…”
He stood up and walked away from the desk, leaving the comm line open.
“Tyler…”
He walked out into the short corridor and onto the bridge. “Commander, I want an open line to Megara…no code, full power, to all receiving stations.” His voice was utterly without emotion. Even Atara looked at him with undisguised concern. But, he ignored it all.
“Yes, Admiral…on your line.”
He walked over to his chair and stood alongside. He pulled his headset on and activated it.
“This is Admiral Tyler Barron, to the Senate and people of Megara, and to all military personnel, including those manning the orbital fortresses. We, as Confederation citiz
ens have prided ourselves on our republican government, praised ourselves for our enlightened status, on a Rim dominated by despotism and tyranny. But, we have lied to ourselves, prided ourselves on that which does not exist, not in any meaningful way. The Senate in which we felt wrongful and childlike pride is corrupt, and the Union’s Sector Nine has been able infiltrate the highest sections of the government. Lies have been spread far and wide, and some of our best people have been maligned, arrested…or even killed. For the first time, I stand here in my uniform, one that I was born into, one that I strived to attain and struggled to wear with honor and pride…and I am ashamed, disgusted with my nation and the foulness and corruption that has steered it into darkness and imminent destruction.”
Barron could feel every set of eyes on Dauntless’s bridge boring into him, the utter silence all around as he continued. He’d lost all sense of restraint and diplomacy, and he imagined Striker and Holsten were desperately trying to reach him, even then. But, he just didn’t care.
“As I speak, Confederation forces under Admiral Winters are fighting to hold back an invasion from the Hegemony, a deadly new enemy, vast hordes of ships from the galactic core, where we had so long assumed no civilization remained. This is a threat like no other we have faced, deadlier and more ominous than the worst war with the Union. And, yet, Admiral Winters faces the enemy with the bits and pieces of a fleet he was able to scavenge on the frontier, because the rest of the navy was here, caught up in the foulness centered in the Senate, while our comrades fought against overwhelming odds. And died in those desperate, hopeless battles.”
His heart was pounding in his chest, and he knew he’d lost control. Still, his grief drove him forward, his guilt. Andi might be gone, he might have failed her, the only woman he’d ever loved. But, he would make sure that she had not died for nothing. And, he would see all those responsible held accountable.